Fuck.
What was she suggesting?
“What I want…” He leaned in, closing the gap between them. She smelled like money, like exotic, subtle fragrances he’d never heard of, and something else. Something earthy and delicate and uniquely her—andthatwas what he really craved. “Princess, what I want isn’t on the table.”
Her eyes flashed. “Because you waste your breath calling me princess.”
“What would you prefer?”
“Ms. Fischer has a nice ring to it.”
“We’re well past formalities, wife.”
“Then we should also be well past stupid fights,husband.”
“So if we weren’t fighting…” He dragged in a breath. Fuck, it was hard to think.
“We’d have to find something else to do,” she whispered.
It had been a long time since he’d flirted with a woman, and he was out of practice. And it was deeply unfair that the one woman who made him want to flirt was his wife, who also made him want to be mean.
Because she had hurt him.
Except it was hard to hold on to that truth when she was so fucking soft, right in front of him. Not going anywhere, not fighting him back.
Offering him…what?
A final taste?
Could he have her, if he knew he’d have to let her go again?
No.
He couldn’t seriously indulge this fantasy.
He needed…
Fuck.
His instinct to be meaner, to push harder, was wrong. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t think of a better plan, other than grabbing her and kissing her. And that was impossible, so he lashed out with the most effective weapon he had.
He raked his gaze down her body. Under his flannel shirt, she was wearing a silky top and a tight pair of jeans that looked painted on to the body he’d once claimed for himself.
He let his attention linger there, and let the heat swarming around inside him slide out in a slow, dirty smile. “There is definitely a part of me that would do absolutely anything to be inside you again. If I could make a deal with the devil to have you in my bed again, I would take it.”
She gasped. But she didn’t step back. She leaned in, her breath warm against his face. “And in this scenario, am I the devil?”
No, the devil in this case was wholly of his own making. Inside him.
He caught her hand again, her warm little wrist, and pressed it against the heavy bulge behind his fly. “This feel like I’m blaming you for anything anymore?”
“You don’t really want me.” Her words were soft and disbelieving.
“I don’t want toloveyou. I definitely still want to fuck you.”
18
Monica froze.
